


Whispers in the Night

by MirandaShepard_93



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Balgruuf is sweet on the dragonborn, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, and she just wants to feel safe, f/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26881588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandaShepard_93/pseuds/MirandaShepard_93
Summary: This was supposed to be a PWP, pininig, whump story, but I melted and now its all fluff.
Relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Kudos: 25





	Whispers in the Night

It started with the feeling of being watched in the Jarls hall. Of course, she was being watched; the Dragonborn drew eyes wherever they walked... and Lilith drew the eyes of the Jarl for her own merits, too. But this was a different kind of watchfulness. Hungry and ancient, it made the skin on her neck crawl and creep. Then a dragon attacked the city - no casualties, thankfully, except for a few houses. Hers included. Balgruuf had invited her to stay at the Dragons Reach. The whispers became loud in the night.

On the first night, Lilith swung her legs out of the obscenely plush bed and cocked her head to the side. The whispers had been faint, then, but noticeable. They tickled her ears and made her skin crawl even before the cool air kissed it; she slipped her feet into the soft boots Proventus had brought her when she sent her armour to Eorlund for repair. She moved like a shadow through the cavernous halls of Dragons reach, down into the main hall where the firepit still crackled and hissed. As she passed the Jarls throne, the whispers became deafening; a roar she couldn't make sense of, imbued with a terrible sense of frustrated longing. Lilith stopped, pressed a hand to her head and staggered. As quick as they came, the whispers disappeared, and she had turned on the spot like a lost child. As she looked up, Lilith saw Balgruuf on the balcony, head tilted, and raised her hand to him. If he sought her out, she didn't know. She had padded back to her room and slipped beneath the blankets, shaking and suddenly cold. The next night, they started again, and the next, and the next, until she began to make sense of them. 

_He has so much to do - He never sleeps - The dungeons reek of blood and piss and the guards know it's the smell of innocent men suffering - Yofric knows what happened to Efa - In the night Balgruuf thinks about his wife, the first one, the pretty one, and wonders if he should have died with her-_

Secrets. Lilith sat upright, heart hammering, she was hearing _secrets,_

"Who are you?" She asked the still night air, and saw her breath mist there. She followed the last echoes into the hall, barefooted, and ran face first into broad chest. Balgruuf looked down at her with a sardonic grin, 

"Wandering the halls again, eh Dragonborn?" He had asked in his honey warm voice, 

"I heard..." she looked around and suddenly had the feeling that she should not tell him, "I thought I heard someone shout... but I think it may have been the last dregs of a dream."

"I see," he said, and reached out to run his rough palms over her shoulders, blushing when he realised what he had done, "you must have believed it, you've run out into the cold without shoes."

"Yes..." Lilith looked down at her feet and smiled as something crackled in the air between them. The Jarl was known for his temper, but she had always found him to be kind, thoughtful, and fair... if a little stern. In the empty hall, however, with the fire dying below, she felt the seething emotions that lay below his measured exterior. And a voice whispered into her head that he wanted her. That he dreamed about her. That she could reach out her hand and take him like low-hanging fruit if she wanted to. Then it was chased away by the ghost of his wives between them. How could one man survive losing two wives? It was a question with no answer. "I should go..." she murmured without looking back up. She felt him watch her leave. Eventually the whispers bled into her days and she followed them into the basement, heart hammering. The Lady of Whispers told her many things. Everything but how to open the door - for that she needed Nelkir. 

Once she was standing in front of him, however, something felt wrong. His eyes were shining with a strange light. Before Lilith could walk away, however, he spoke,

"You know the Lady of Whispers," he said, "I can tell."

"Yes," she says, "I do... do you know how to open the door?"

"You need a key," Nelkir said with a strange smile, 

"Where-"

"My father has one," he looked up at the ceiling, "and Farengar has the other."

"I see..." Lilith shifted her weight and chose her words carefully, "is there no-one else? They're sure to notice-"

"No-one will care in Farengar goes missing," Nelkir interrupted with a sweet smile, "trust me." 

Her blood ran cold. Something was seriously wrong with the child; she made for the main hall, ready to tell Balgruuf. Somehow the need passed before she made it; Lilith found herself sidling into Farengars study, looking for the key. Nothing. Of course he would carry it on him, they both would. It was too important. 

"Dragonborn? Can I help you?" Farengar was standing in the door, a strange, hard look in his eye. _He knows._

"Yes... I, I'm having trouble sleeping. I was hoping you had some canis root?" She blinked, he seemed to shift, "then I saw the map on your desk and got lost staring at it." She said with a laugh, and his face softened,

"It's a map of supposed Dragon Priest burials," he said, 

"It's very pretty," Lilith said and turned back to touch the parchment, "though I confess I didn't take anything in. Too tired."

"Here," he reached into a drawer, offering her a small bottle, "a sleeping draught."

"Thank you." No, Farengar was not the answer. She couldn't fool him, and there was no good reason to harm him. That only left... Across the hall, Balgruuf was dealing with a delegation from Falkreath. The strain on his face was evident; he seemed ten years older, all of a sudden, and all she could do was seethe with guilt.

She paced the hallway a few times, wine in one hand, sleeping draught in her pocket. The whispers were more like thunderclaps, now, and she couldn't catch a thought that was her own. Drink the potion or pour it into the wine? Or pour it out? Or take it to Balgruuf as it was? He needed to sleep. She needed to sleep. She needed _silence,_ by the nine she needed silence. She slipped past his guards without so much as a glance and entered his quarters without knocking. There is a kind of peace in a persons private rooms, Lilith had notice, a clandestine warmth that feels as intimate as silk on the skin. There was a fire crackling somewhere, and the smell of smoke and wine and leather under the spicy scent of lavender which filled the rooms, emanating from the freshly picked bundles around the room. He was still awake; sitting by the fire in the outer chambers. She cleared her throat lightly, but he didn't twitch. A cough this time. Nothing, 

"My lord?" She asked, but he didn't even move. A sudden panic gripped her by the throat and she scurried forward to press two fingers to his throat. Balgruuf jerked awake groggily, but blinked the weariness away with stunning speed, 

"What in-" he turned, "is something wrong?"

"No."

"Did Hrongar ask you to get me?"

"No."

"Then..." his eyes dropped to the wine in her hand, 

"I couldn't sleep... we always seem to run into each other in..." Lilith faltered, blood chilling as if someone had dunked her in the fjord, "by the nine, I'm sorry, I don't know why I came here-"

"I do," Balgruuf said, hand like iron on her wrist, and the sleeping draught in her robe pocket seemed to grow heavier, "come," he said gently and tugged her towards him. Almost hesitantly, he pulled her down onto his lap, _oh._ With a surprisingly gentle hand, he brushed errant hair from her face and held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. It was ridiculous, of course, for this man to hold her as if she were delicate and dainty and breakable. She had fought men, trolls, and dragons in the same day without serious injury. She had bested unspeakably abominations, faced deadra, and while he was a man of war, he was only that - a man.

It made no sense that she suddenly felt exhausted and terribly, terribly emotional. It made no sense to press his hand to her face. But she did just that, and he pulled her against his chest, 

"You take on too much, Lilith," he used her given name as if it was the most natural thing in the world, "it's no wonder you're too exhausted to sleep." 

"That's not possible," she said with a laugh, and he snorted, 

"It is. That's why we keep meeting in the halls," Balgruuf whispered, breath tickling her face, "I can't sleep for weariness and neither can you."

"And you're telling _me_ that I take on too much?"

"You do."

"So you do!"

"No, I have much put on me," he said, "but my duties have an end, Lililth. You take on the woes of every waif and stray you cross paths with. It's not healthy."

"I didn't come here to be chided," she struggled to push him away, but succeeded only in sitting up to face him,

"No, I suppose not," he said, "what did you come for, then? To drink?" He moved her as if she weighed nothing, crossed the room to pick up two goblets. Lilith smirked; it was cruel, perhaps, but satisfying to watch him stumbled over his own assumptions, though they had been correct. To see the great Jarl of Whiterun, famed for his implacable stubbornness and ferocious temper, blushing like a boy trying to get his leg over a woman for the first time. 

"Among other things," she said and placed the bottle on the low table before resting her chin on her knuckles. Balgruuf faltered, stuttered and gave a breathless laugh, 

"I'm not sure what you mean,"

"Aren't you?" Lilith reached out and trailed her fingers along his thigh, creeping up, eyes locked on his face. The slow blush that crept over his face as his eyes closed and his fists balled was delicious, but the sudden catch in his otherwise steady breathing was what she needed to hear. With a slow smile, she ran her finger tips over the bulge in his breeches, "I think you know." When he opened his eyes they were hazy, pupils blown wide. Without a word, he sank to his knees and slid a hand into her hair, pulling it tight enough to make her gasp, and dragged her closer for a slow kiss. The light scratch of his beard made Lilith smile, 

"What?" He murmured, eyes still closed, 

"Your beard smells like lavender," she said, 

"And?"

"I had no idea you were so effite," she whispered, smirking as the light jab landed. Balgruuf gripped her thigh with one hand, keeping the other in her hair, and dragged her closer, 

"Excuse me?" It was more of a rumble than a question, practically a growl; she laughed as a familiar, pleasant trembling took root in her body, 

"Nothing," she whispered, 

"No, come now, tell me what you said, woman," he said and nipped her lower lip. Lilith shook her head, "no? Why not?" He chased her mouth down while she giggled and squirmed, then suddenly broke away, laughing, "I don't know what I expected, Lilith, but it was not this." She froze under his regard, 

"You expected rejection?"

"I expected to be on the back foot," he said and tilted his head, "I expected the Dragonborn, not a giggling girl." Before her stomach could drop his face split into a grin, "it's an honour to see you like this."

"Do you intend to fuck me honourably, or will I be having fun tonight?" Lilith asked with a roll of her eyes, stomach clenching at the sudden intake of his breath, and yelped when he dragged her forward by the hips, the furs on the chair sliding down with her. As she fought to push the thick furs behind her head, he pulled her robe tie loose and pushed his hands under her nightdress, 

"I'll fuck you any way you please, woman," he rumbled, "or rather any way I please." He must have seen the grin that spread on her face, because the laugh that followed his words was filthy. It seemed to slip under her gown all on its own, but it wasn't alone for long. Two rough hands gripped her hips, and that well groomed beard tickled her inner thighs for a moment before he dragged her under garments down and ran the flat of his tongue along her slit.

"Oh," it was a cliche, she knew, but her mind went blank as he gripped her rear with both hands and pulled her up to meet him. For a man known to favour swords over words, he had a talented mouth. Of course, he pulled away too soon - a very male trait, "don't stop," it sounded almost petulant, and his laugh was indulgent. The way he licked his bottom lip, however, was almost sinful. She tasted herself on his lips and sighed when he slipped two fingers into her. 

"This is good?" He asked between kisses, 

"Don't you dare stop," Lilith panted, and he laughed again. So strange, to laugh during sex, but it felt natural coming from him, 

"I won't," Balgruuf whispered, "but... is this... this is what you want?"

"Yes." She tried to pull him closer, the whispers were almost nonexistent when he was close, but he stayed still, _Gods he's strong,_

"Yes?"

"Yes!"

"Good," and the smile came back, like the sun appearing from behind clouds. Then he curled his fingers and rubbed his thumb in small, tight circles against her, and Lilith melted, squirming and gasping. When she woke later, in the grey hours before dawn, his arm was wrapped tight around her, face buried in her hair, and the fire in the outer chambers had died down to a hissing, crackling pile of charcoal. Lililth lay in silence, for a moment, unable to place a finger on just what was different. Aside from the obvious. The whispers, they were gone. Or muted enough that they didn't press on her thoughts at every moment. She lay still, as if any movement would provoke them, 

"What is it, woman?" Balgruuf grumbled, voice thick with sleep, "you're stiff as a plank of wood."

"What's in the basement?"

"What?"

"In the basement - behind the whispering door?" Lilith asked, and felt him slowly turn to stone, 

"I think we had better talk about this with Farengar." He said, but when he tried to roll away she gripped his arm, 

"After breakfast," she said and pushed back into him and felt the smile on his lips when he pressed his nose back into the mass of her hair. 


End file.
